RITES OF PASSAGE
by kuroren23
Summary: Abe has a new assignment that has his baffled. An essay turns the world of taciturn, bossy catcher of the Nishiura team upside down and finds himself battling truths, fools and idiots along the way.
1. Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimer: OOFURI isn't mine but that doesn't matter. I adore it is to celebrate the 2nd Season.

Authors Note: I've missed them so. I missed the relationships and the fun they exhibit. I miss this series because there was just so much more they could show and watching and reading Oofuri always made me feel strangely content and mushy. Hopefully I can capture even the barest fragment of the emotions they incite inside me. If I can manage that then the wait was worth it. I haven't written in while. I hope this series could show me a sign that I could still do it.

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_"I'm talking about fate here - when feelings are so powerful it's as if some force beyond your control is guiding you to someone who can make you happy beyond your wildest dreams."_  
Alex & Emma

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RITES OF PASSAGE

*** A B E ***

There are few truly awkward rites of passage required of human beings. Most of them are reasonable—physical, mental emotional, ritualistic. More than a fair few are absolutely necessary to enable the continuation of society as we know it.

Of the rare ones that simply defy conventions of logic and common sense none tops the list more oft than not than asking advice on matters of the heart. Then there's asking advice of matters of the heart from an idiot. This could only be compounded by the fact that the reason you seek said advice is because you've exhausted all available possibilities save this one. The notion begins to be both trying and insulting when you have already consulted a gaggle of minds from the most profound to the most unconventional and still ended up with a hyper-active, perverted moron on permanent sugar high as your best chance of getting what you want.

This entire ordeal becomes a million times more aggravating when the reason (_a.k.a the one that concerns your heart_) you even bothered to consult an idiot for guidance happens to be more oblivious to your efforts than the average rock.

That's when life becomes an actual pain in the ass and a simple rite of passage called falling in love becomes a war to maintain sanity. Whoever said falling in love was easy? I didn't fall, saunter in lazily or woke up with the miraculous discovery that I was a slave to human emotions just like the rest of the populace. I got dragged into it kicking and screaming bloody murder.

This is simply an account of it.

Read it at your own peril.

And don't say I didn't warn you.

Satisfying curiosity--after all—is a rite of passage as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**" There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness. "**  
**- Friedrich Nietzsche **

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**HOMEWORK**

School is a trial. No matter what your IQ, EQ or whatever quotient works for you—school is a battlefield that stages endless wars that either drags you to hell and back or cause permanent damage in your cerebral functions resulting in a near catatonic state of indifference.

Today, school is a bog of perpetual boredom. The smoldering heat simmering in a steady haze just beyond the glass windows barely registered as the steady drone of voices reciting random information I will never ever use in practical living echoed all around me. It took considerable effort on my part not succumb to the temptation of ducking behind my textbook and snatching a few precious minutes of much needed sleep.

Especially with my teacher being the conventional type that simply addresses the class from behind the safe barricades of his textbook. I would most likely recognize the bald, spotted pate of my teacher more readily than his face should we ever meet in the halls of the school. His teaching technique was as predictable as the topics for most of our papers in his class. Today he was assigning a new assignment and I already reserved a small boxed fraction on my page to ensure that I remember what it would be later on.

I glanced down at the notes already covering two previously pristine pages of my writing notebook and added a few more phrases and numbers. Don't get me wrong—whatever I had written there had no relationship whatsoever with my current class. The notes were tactics and stats for the team we would be facing next. I give my schoolwork a considerable amount of my concentration when I feel the need to—otherwise the bare minimum does well enough for me.

Someone nudged my chair from behind dislodging my carefully propped up book and my head whipped up to glare at the cause of such unwelcome intrusion. The curt words died on my lips before I even had the chance to part them when I found out the culprit. I shook my head at the sight of my teammate face-planting straight into the unforgiving metal bar of my chair. Gingerly I pulled a few strands of hair and nudged him awake.

'_Wake up_!' I mouthed silently. The boy simply stared at me with a blank look and I figured I was wasting my breath.

Mizutani. One glance at I figured he was even a worse place than I was. I was simply wallowing in disinterested stupor—he was drowning in his attempt to concentrate on our teacher's non-linear, convoluted choice of material as he chants his way through it in a deeply annoying nasal drone. His eyes swirled with confusion and I could almost feel his growing panic that this was yet another class he was on the brink of failing. I gave him a commiserating look and mouthed assurance that I will ask Hanai to explain later. The gratitude that shone on his face nearly made me break down in laughter.

The disruption of my strategy review caused me to pay attention to my surrounding. My concentration on the game calling shot to shreds, I decided to amuse myself by watching my classmates. It was something I only do on the rare occasions when boredom threatens to put me on a coma.

The class was the usual mix of personalities. None of them were truly exceptional—most are passing fair, simple students going through yet another rite of passage—school. There are the requisite teacher's pet, overly serious 14 year-olds-going-on-forty, the nurturing would-be housewives, the flirty vivacious party girls, fashion girls, the jocks, nerds, crafty kids. None of them were the stereotypical bully and the prey and our school isn't elite enough to have young whiny lords or ladies to prance around.

Thankfully I had my teammates with me and even more of a grace was the fact that I had the more normal of them. The ones that causes problems on a daily basis was thankfully roomed somewhere else. Oki and Suyama are quiet types that get the job done when its crunch time and barring Mizutani's occasional spastic nature, were pretty even keeled here. Our captain is also with us. Hanai is a steady, dependable type. Sure I could probably manipulate him because of his pride but he is a far more effective leader than he realized. Mores the point, I don't want his job so I better make sure I give him as much support as possible. As vice-captain it's only expected that I do my best by him. The other half of the team located on the adjacent room, however, is an entirely different matter.

I was about to ask Mizutani to pass a message along to Hanai when I heard the tell-tale silence that marked the inevitable end of today's lecture and the start of a new topic being written on the board.

I picked up my pen and flipped to my designated page, absently reminding myself to pick up a new notebook on my way home before glancing at the board. Pen held aloft I tried to decipher the written characters trying to make sense of what my teacher intended. Two minutes passed and I was still staring at the board, my hand copying the characters absently on the blank space I prepared beforehand. I glanced at it, surprised that I managed such a feat considering the fact that I was still caught in the unusually loop of confusion.

**Write a descriptive essay on what's precious to you. Use adjectives freely. The essay must be written using artistic creative descriptions. The more subtle it is and harder to figure out, the better. The subject may either be something or someone.**

_What the hell does that mean?_


End file.
